


The Boggart, the Witch, and the Muggle

by D_Leveille



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1950s, AU-gust 2020, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Cozy, F/M, Feel-good, First Meetings, Meet-Cute, Muggle/Wizard Relations, Pre-Canon, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:54:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26625502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D_Leveille/pseuds/D_Leveille
Summary: Hope Howell, a witch who specializes in Non-human Spiritous Apparitions, meets a Muggle named Lyall while hiking through a Welsh forest. After “rescuing” him from a Boggart, Hope finds herself falling for the charismatic young man. But how will Lyall react when he learns about magic? Role Reversal AU. Oneshot.
Relationships: Hope Lupin/Lyall Lupin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8
Collections: AUgust 2020





	The Boggart, the Witch, and the Muggle

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This fic was written for hprarepairnet’s Obscure Character Ships Challenge and AU-gust 2020. I always loved the Pottermore story about Hope and Lyall’s fated meeting, but I thought it would be even more intriguing if I reversed the roles. I hope you enjoy my take on it!

**_October 1958_ **

Hope Howell made her way through the dense trees of the Coed Taf Fawr woodlands. She’d been searching all afternoon for a particularly nasty Boggart. The Apparition had been terrorizing unsuspecting hikers for over a month now, and Hope was determined to put a stop to the little bugger once and for all. If she could find it, that is.

Hope came across a lovely clearing with a stream. _I might as well take a short break,_ she thought, pushing aside a stray lock of hair. The witch transfigured an old log into a bench and took a seat, admiring the way the late afternoon sun shone on the orange and gold trees. Autumn was her favorite season because it reminded her of Hogwarts. She had graduated seven years ago, and yet she still missed the magnificent school of magic. _They’ll be having their Halloween feast soon,_ she thought longingly. Hope began to reminisce about all her favorite places… glorious afternoons spent near the lake, rainy days revising at the library, and cozy evenings in Ravenclaw tower.

She sat there for so long, lost in the past, that she didn’t realize the sun had gone down. A loud exclamation startled her back to the present moment. Hope shot up and hurried towards the trail. She followed the distressed sounds until she discovered a male hiker brandishing a walking stick at a shadowy beast. Hope pointed her wand at the Boggart and performed a non-verbal Riddikulus spell. The beast instantly transformed into a clump of mushrooms. Then she retrieved a box from her satchel and summoned the Boggart into it. “Gotcha,” she whispered, snapping the lid shut.

“Where did it go?” shouted the man.

Hope rose from her crouched position and stepped onto the trail. “Are you okay, sir?” she asked

“I… yes. But I could have sworn I saw something coming at me.” His accent was working class English.

“An animal?”

The man lowered his walking stick. “More of a monster. I know that sounds ridiculous.”

She tried not to smile at his choice of words. “Well, it is getting dark. Perhaps your eyes were playing tricks on you,” Hope said in a reassuring tone. “I’ve imagined all sorts of things in these woods before.”

“I suppose you’re right.” He let out a long exhale. “For a moment there, I thought the mythical beast from my story had come to life.”

“Oh, are you a writer?” she asked curiously, trying to make out his features in the fading light. The brim of his newsboy cap obscured his eyes, but he had a nice jawline.

The man nodded. “I’m working on a novel right now. That’s why I came here – to experience a woodland setting. I haven’t been able to capture the atmosphere, you see.”

“That shouldn’t give you any trouble after today.”

He gave her a sheepish grin. “True enough! Ah, but where are my manners? I’m Lyall. Lyall Lupin,” he said, extending a hand.

She shook it. “Hope Howell.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Howell. What brings you to these woods today?”

“Oh, I had to collect some samples,” she replied, thinking fast. “For a research project.”

“Are you a botanist?”

“Not exactly, but I am interested in native plant species.” This wasn’t a complete lie since Herbology had been one of her favorite classes. “I don’t live that far away and I’m able to come here whenever I like.”

“Aren’t you lucky! I only came up from Cardiff for the weekend.” Lyall pulled a Muggle torch from his knapsack. “May I escort you to the visitor center, Miss Howell?”

She smiled. “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.” Walking beside him made her realize just how tall he was. She barely reached his broad shoulders.

They made small talk as they walked down the darkened trail. Hope found out that Lyall worked at an insurance agency. “It’s mind-numbingly dull, but it pays the bills. I’m hoping to be a novelist in the not-so-distant future.”

“What’s your book about, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“It’s a fantasy – a bit like _The Lord of the Rings_ trilogy. Have you read them?”

“No, I’m afraid not,” Hope replied.

“Oh, you really must.” He then proceeded to wax poetic about the Muggle book instead of telling her about his own. Lyall’s enthusiasm made Hope smile though. She was used to being around stuffy old men who hardly said a word. “Blimey, I’m forgetting my manners again,” he said a minute later. “I haven’t asked what you do for a living.”

Hope worked in the Spirit Division for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, but she could hardly tell him that. “Err, I’m pursuing a post-graduate degree for botany,” she said, going along with his earlier inquiry. Hope had always been an honest person, yet here she was, coming up with lie after lie. It might be necessary because of the Statute of Secrecy, but it still made her feel guilty.

When they reached the visitor center he said, “Miss Howell, would you join me for a bite to eat down at the village pub?”

“Sure. I’d like that very much.”

“Great!” The streetlamp illuminated Lyall’s face. He wasn’t wildly good looking, but all his features were good.

It started to drizzle, so they huddled inside the small shelter as they waited for the ten past five bus to arrive. Lyall was a good conversationalist, and she found herself chatting easily with him. She discovered his age (twenty-eight) and where he was from (Gloucestershire).

“So, you were too young to have been in the war then,” she pointed out.

“Yes. My father was in it though.” His expression fell. “He was killed in action.”

“Oh, I am sorry, Lyall.” Hope touched the sleeve of his wool coat. “My father died in the war as well.” Although hers had fought in the wizarding war against Grindewald.

Lyall’s warm brown eyes were full of understanding. “It made us kids grow up too quickly, didn’t it?”

She nodded. That’s why Hope cherished her time at Hogwarts – because the war had ended right after her first year, and going back in September 1945 had meant safety and happiness for the first time in her young life. Hope and Lyall might be from different worlds, but they’d both experienced fear and tragedy. That linked them together in a way, and it made Hope feel a lot closer to this strange Muggle man she’d only just met.

They talked about their childhoods on the bus ride to the pub. Hope told him that she had gone to a boarding school in Scotland, and he told her how football matches had got him through his father’s death.

“Do you still play football?” she asked.

“No, I hurt my knee at uni. Riding a bicycle is about as active as I get nowadays.” He paused. “I do miss playing though. Despite all the ruddy injuries, I had a lot of fun.”

“What sorts of injuries?”

“Mostly sprained ankles, but I took an elbow to the face that broke my nose. It’s a bit off center now. Can you tell?” he asked, turning to look at her straight on.

“Now that you point it out, I can, but it isn’t very noticeable. Gives your face some character.”

He flashed her a grin. “That’s kind of you to say, Miss Howell.”

“Please call me Hope.”

“Hope,” he repeated softly. “That’s such a lovely name. I’d wager you were a light in the dark during the war.”

She smiled. “My mother often said so. I used to play the piano for her after my father died. It seemed to cheer her up.”

“I’d love to hear you play someday,” he said, his tone dreamlike.

It didn’t come across as a pickup line, yet it made Hope’s heart skip a beat since it expressed his desire to see her again. She wanted that too, but it wouldn’t be the thing for her to show eagerness this soon.

“Perhaps you will,” she replied, and left it at that.

When they arrived at the pub, Hope went into the ladies’ room to freshen up. She took her hair down from its clip and shook out her shoulder-length blonde waves. Then she rifled through her satchel for a compact and a tube of lipstick. Once her face was made up, she removed her jacket and smoothed the wrinkles from her moss green cardigan. With one last glance in the mirror, she exited the restroom.

Lyall was nearly a head taller than everyone else, so she had no trouble spotting him at the bar. He’d taken off his tweed cap, and his brown hair was tousled as though he’d just raked a hand through it. The hairstyle made him look boyish and carefree. Lyall’s eyes lit up when he saw her.

“Gosh, you’re even prettier in the proper lighting,” he said, giving her a dazed smile.

“Thank you, Lyall. You’re not too shabby yourself,” she added without thinking. Hope never engaged in flirtatious banter, but Lyall made it easy somehow.

He looked pleased at the compliment. “Fancy a pint before we sit down?”

“Sure.”

Lyall turned back to the bartender and ordered two ales. Once they had them in hand, Hope led the way to a booth on the far wall. He removed his wool coat and hung it on a nearby rack. Lyall was wearing one of those cozy cable-knit jumpers – the kind fishermen wear.

“Shall I hang yours up too?” he asked.

“Yes, please.” She passed him her tweed jacket. They both looked very country today; Hope with her riding breeches tucked into boots, and Lyall with his khaki trousers and sturdy wellingtons.

The waitress came round a minute later and they ordered beef stew and a breadbasket. While waiting for their dinner, Hope asked him about his novel again. She thought it sounded remarkably interesting, but then, she’d never really read Muggle literature before. She decided to visit a bookshop tomorrow and pick up a copy of _The Fellowship of the Ring_. From now on, she would be more informed about Muggle culture.

He looked up from his pint and caught her staring. “You probably think I’m a ridiculous dreamer, huh?”

“Not at all! In fact, I admire you for being so passionate about your novel.”

“Thank you, Hope. You’re the only one who thinks so. Everyone else says how unrealistic I am.”

“I’ve always found that self-belief goes a long way,” she told him. “If you put in the work, good things are bound to happen. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.”

“Hope Howell, you’re the sweetest girl I’ve ever met,” he declared, smiling.

She found herself flustered and tongue tied, but the arrival of their food spared her from coming up with a response. They were both famished after being outside all day, and they eagerly tucked into their stew. Hope thought as she ate. For years, she had neglected her personal life to focus solely on her career. She’d even published a book on Boggarts and Poltergeists, which had been well-received among her academic circle. That was more than most twenty-five-year-olds could claim. Hope was successful and financially secure, so really, there was no reason for her not to date someone if she wanted to.

“What are you thinking about?” Lyall asked.

“Oh, just how nice you are,” she admitted. “And how glad I am to have run into you today.”

He beamed at her. “Does this mean you’ll go out with me again?”

“Yes,” she replied, returning his smile.

When the waitress came by to clear away their dishes, he asked for a pen. “Hope, would you write down your number for me?”

“I don’t have one. But if you give me yours, I can ring you from the phone box in town. My mum and I live in the woods, you see. There’s no telephone lines out that far.”

“Ah, gotcha.” Lyall scribbled his number onto a napkin and pushed it across the table. “Make sure you don’t lose it, or I’ll have to travel back up here and wait around for you at the visitor center,” he joked.

Hope laughed. “I’ll keep it safe.”

When it came time for them to say goodnight, Lyall saw her off at the bus stop.

“Goodbye, Lyall. Thank you for the lovely dinner.”

“It was my pleasure. I enjoyed every minute of your company,” he said, taking her hand in his. “Will I see you again soon?”

“I can come down to Cardiff next Saturday if you’re not busy.”

He smiled. “I’m not. Phone me on Monday evening and we can settle on where to meet.”

“Okay,” she agreed.

Lyall bent his head and brushed his lips against the back of her hand. The charming, old-fashioned gesture made her heart melt. Lyall Lupin was a true gentleman. Hope had the sudden urge to throw her arms round him, and she probably would have done if the bus hadn’t pulled up just then.

“Goodnight, Lyall,” she murmured.

“Night, Hope. Safe journey.”

“Same to you.”

He released her hand and she climbed onto the bus with a leaden weight in the pit of her stomach. She really hadn’t wanted to leave. Hope caught a glimpse of Lyall’s dejected expression through the window, but the gloom lifted as soon as she waved to him. Lyall flashed her that endearing, crooked grin of his, and Hope felt a surge of fluttery warmth. Love-struck... that’s what her mum would call it.

As the bus pulled away, she patted the wooden box inside her satchel. “Thank you, Boggart,” Hope whispered, feeling a special fondness for the creature who had brought them together.

***.*.***

**_March 1959_ **

Hope and Lyall were snuggled up on the sofa with mugs of cocoa, listening to a BBC drama on the radio. They usually went out to the cinema every Saturday, but the steady rain kept them inside tonight. Not that Hope minded – she preferred these private, cozy moments in Lyall’s flat.

After the drama ended, the programme switched to music instead. “This is for all you love birds out there. Wherever you are right now, grab your sweetheart and hold them close,” the announcer crooned. _‘Linger in my arms a little longer baby’_ by Peggy Lee started playing.

“Well, I don’t have to be told twice.”

Lyall stood up and extended his hand. Hope accepted with a smile. There was something so delightful about dancing in the living room without any shoes on. She rested her head against his chest, feeling blissfully happy. _‘You’ll always be the one I love’_ by Frank Sinatra came on next. During the orchestra solo, Lyall whispered in her ear.

“Hope, darling, will you marry me?” She looked up at him, wide-eyed and utterly speechless. “I know we haven’t known each other long,” he said, rushing ahead. “But I love you, and I can’t imagine sharing my life with anyone else.”

Hope found her voice. “Oh, Lyall, I feel the same way. But before I give you my answer, there’s something you should know.” She exhaled slowly. “We’d better sit down.”

Lyall’s brow creased with worry. “What is it, sweetheart? Please tell me that you don’t have a terminal illness.”

“Oh, no, I’m perfectly healthy.” Hope smoothed the back of her tartan skirt and sat on the sofa.

“Thank god for that! Well, don’t keep me in suspense. Tell me straight out. Whatever it is, I can handle it.”

Hope had thought about this moment constantly. But she’d never imagined it would come right after a proposal of marriage, for Merlin’s sake! She silently scolded herself for not telling him at Christmas. _What if he doesn’t want to marry me once he knows the truth?_ Hope’s old school friend had been going steady with a Muggle for years, and he’d broken up with her after learning that she was a witch. Things had gotten so ugly that a team of Obliviators had been sent to erase his memories. _But surely it won’t be like that with Lyall? He’s far too open-minded and generous to cause a row, isn’t he?_

Hope’s heart was racing as she began her speech. “Lyall, I’ve been hiding a part of myself from you. I never wanted to be dishonest, but my world has certain rules. We’re not allowed to tell outsiders unless we trust them completely, and I do trust you, Lyall – with all my heart. That’s why I want to be honest with you.”

He frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“I know. I’m doing a terrible job of explaining. Perhaps I’d better show you.” Hope reached for her handbag on the side table. She opened the clasp and pulled out her rowan-wood wand.

“Hang on, what is that? And how did it fit inside such a tiny purse?”

“It’s a wand. For performing magic,” she replied, trying to keep her voice level. “I put an extendable charm on my bag, so I can fit all sorts of things inside.”

Lyall let out a nervous laugh. “A magic wand? Are you serious, Hope?”

“Yes, I am. And I’ll prove it to you.” She pointed her wand at a book on the coffee table. “Wingardium Leviosa.” The hardcover volume lifted into the air.

“Dear god, it’s actually floating!” Lyall reminded her of a gleeful child. “Can you do something else?”

She smiled at him. “Of course. Let me put the book down first.” Once it was back on the table, Hope directed her wand towards the armchair. “Accio pillow.”

Lyall caught the round cushion speeding towards them. “Holy moley, that was amazing!” He turned to her, his brown eyes sparkling with excitement. “I’ve always wanted magic to be real, and now it is! What do you call yourself? A sorcerer?”

“A witch, actually. Men are called wizards. Do you remember the day we met? Well, you really did see a monster in the woods. Or rather, what you saw was a Boggart. They’re harmless shapeshifting Apparitions that take the form of whatever you fear the most. I went there that day to capture it.”

A crease appeared between his eyebrows. “You’re not a botanist then?”

“No. I work for the Ministry of Magic, in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. I’m an expert on Non-human Spiritous Apparitions.”

“Blimey, that’s a mouthful!’

Hope chuckled. “Yes.”

“What other kinds of magical creatures are there?”

“You’re already familiar with some of them, such as dragons, unicorns, and centaurs. I’ll lend you my copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. It’s a very informative guidebook on the different types of species.”

He shook his head, a bemused expression on his face. “You’re not playing an elaborate joke on me, are you?”

“No! I would never do that. I’m telling you the truth.” She searched his eyes. “Please say that you believe me.”

Lyall cradled her cheek with his warm hand. “I do, my darling. And now that you’ve told me your secret, will you answer my question from before?”

Tears filled her eyes. “Yes! Of course I’ll marry you.”

His smile was like a sunrise. “You’ve made my dreams come true not once, but twice tonight.” He reached behind the sofa cushion and pulled out a little box. Inside was a stunning Art Deco engagement ring. The sky-blue stone was encircled with tiny twinkling diamonds.

“Oh, Lyall, how beautiful!”

“It was my grandmother’s. We might need to get it resized though.”

“Let’s see.” Her hand was trembling as she held it out for him. He slipped the ring onto her finger. It was a bit loose, but she could shrink it later on. “Thank you, my love,” she said, pulling him in for a kiss. She placed her hand over his heart. “I was worried that you wouldn’t want to marry a witch.”

“On the contrary – I’ve never been more thrilled in my life! And really, it’s all thanks to that Boggart. We’ll have to make a little beastie cake-topper since he was our very own cupid.”

Hope laughed merrily. “I adore you, Lyall Lupin. You’re absolutely wonderful.”

He kissed her forehead tenderly. “Now then, I want to hear all about this magical world of yours.”

And so it was Hope’s turn to talk his ear off for a change. She wouldn’t rush or skip ahead – they had the whole evening, after all.

~~~~~

_Closing note: Thanks for reading! I also put together a[ **spotify**](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4UOGd2G0sREMgGKtQB4bbB?si=6lGBzMnVRsOeuFsYniBz3A) playlist of vintage love songs for you to listen to._

_I have some other ideas set in this universe, so if you’d like to read more about Witch!Hope and Muggle!Lyall, please subscribe to this fic (or to my author alerts). And as always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated <3_


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